U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [404]
-141-table at the foot of the bed that was littered with news-papers and typewritten sheets. "Wel , wel , wel ," he said.
"This is a great pleasure for a lonely old codger like me. What would you think of having dinner with the senator?
. . . To see how the other half lives."
They talked and talked. Now and then he slipped a
little whiskey in her tea. He was very kind, said he was sure al the boys could be gotten out of jail as soon as the strike was settled and that it virtual y was settled. He'd just been over in Youngstown talking to Fitzpatrick. He thought he'd just about convinced him that the only thing to do was to get the men back to work. He had Judge Gary's own private assurance that nobody would be dis-criminated against and that experts were working on the problem of an eighthour day. As soon as the technical dif-ficulties could be overcome the whole picture of the steel-worker's life would change radical y for the better. Then and there he offered to put Mary French on the payrol as his secretary. He said her actual experience with condi-tions would be invaluable in influencing legislation. If the great effort of the underpaid steelworkers wasn't to be lost it would have to be incorporated in legislation. The center of the fight was moving to Washington. He felt the time was ripe in the senate. She said her first obligation was to the strike committee.
"But, my dear sweet child," George Barrow said, gently patting the back of her hand, "in a few days there won't be any strikecommittee."
The senator was a southerner with irongrey hair and white spats who looked at Mary French when he first came in the room as if he thought she was going to plant a bomb under the big bulge of his creamcolored vest, but his fatherly respectful delicate flowerofwomanhood man-ner was soothing. They ordered dinner brought up to George's room. The senator kidded George in a heavy rotund way about his dangerous Bolsheviki friends. They'd been putting away a good deal of rye and the smoky air of
-142-George's room was rich with whiskey. When she left them to go down to the office again they were talking about tak-ing in a burlesque show. The bunch down at the office looked haggard and sour. When she told them about G. H. Barrow's offer they told her to jump at it; of course it would be wonderful to have her working for them in Washington and beside they
wouldn't be able to pay even her expenses any more. She finished her release and glumly said goodnight. That night she slept better than she had for weeks though al the way home she was haunted by Gus Moscowski's blue eyes and his fair head with the blood clotted on it and his jaunty grin when his eyes met hers in the courtroom. She had decided that the best way to get the boys out of jail was to go to Washington with George.
Next morning George cal ed her up at the office first thing and asked her what about the job. She said she'd take it. He said would fifty a week be al right; maybe he could raise it to seventyfive later. She said it was more than she'd ever made in her life. He said he wanted her to come right around to the Schenley; he had something important for her to do. When she got there he met her in the lobby with a hundreddol ar bil in his hand. "The first thing I want you to do, sweet girl, is to go buy yourself a warm overcoat. Here's two weeks' salary in advance. . . . You won't be any good to me as a secretary if you catch your death of pneumonia the first day."
On the parlorcar going to Washington he handed over to her two big square black suitcases ful of testimony.
"Don't think for a moment there's no work connected with this job," he said, fishing out manila envelope after manila envelope ful of closely typed stenographers' notes on onionskin paper. "The other stuff